City - LOS ANGELES - Greek Theater State - CALIFORNIA Country - United States
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Yeah, Dylan, Bob Dylan, Robert Zimmerman...he IS the man....still is. Nobody can write like him. He's all alone, . casting a giant shadow, always was, always will be. He's the poet, the singer, the musician, the DJ, the prophet...he told us over 10 years ago that "It's not dark yet but it's getting there". Well , now the DARKNESS is here. We have people starting wars that don't have the brains to start wind up toys. They start things they can't stop then blame others. The man told us, did we listen? Not enough did....start listening and you just might survive when the insanity begins big time. ..... and IT will cause the lunatics are still in charge and NOTHIN' is gonna stop them and NOTHIN' is gonna change.... and we're all in for a hell of a ride - A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall ...the man told us and now it's here....... http://www.bobdylan.com
Cool! The reason he was in Camden Town was that the 'World Gone Wrong' cover was shot in a cafe up the road from where I lived at the time. He'd just finished the shoot and was having a walkabout... you can see the hat in the photo. Apologies if you know this story already, but you've heard the legendary Bob / Dave Stewart tale? Bob is in Crouch End in North London around that time to go to Stewart's studio... he turns up at the address he's got, rings the doorbell and a middle-aged woman answers the door. 'Hi. I'm here to meet Dave.' says Bob. "Oh, he's just popped out. Do you want to come in and wait for him?' replies the woman. Bob says yes, goes in and sits in the kitchen to wait. After half and hour or so, Dave comes back. Only it isn't Dave Stewart, it's just some bloke called Dave. Ordinary Dave enters his kitchen to find Bob Dylan drinking a cup of tea and chatting away to his wife. He is most amazed. Turns out there were two streets with practically the same name and Bob had got them mixed up! When I worked in radio I met Dave Stewart and asked him if this story was actually true, and he said it was absolutely for real!
Dear Patrick, A very interesting story. I was somewhat aware he was cruising around somewhere in London shooting a short film with Dave Stewart (Eurythmics) by way of information either provided by MOJO or Q back when it was happening. I had totally forgotten about it until I picked up the deluxe edition (the "with DVD" one) of Dylan's latest "Modern Times" (with that fantastic Ted Croner "New York Taxi" shot on the cover) What a nice surprise it was that this footage of "Bob in Stovepipe interacting" turned out to be the visual portion of the video for "Blood in my Eyes" from the WORLD GONE WRONG CD. I actually find it very interesting - like the style, it works IMHO. I love watching the public deal with him even more than watching him deal with the public. I had him sitting 3 seats away from me on a night flight from Sao Paulo to Dallas (economy class) in April, 1998 after he finished doing a few shows with the RS's in Brazil (which I didn't bother to see). As I came in and out of sleep/half awakedness I keep trying to think of what I should say to him in my Halcion haze - it was obvious he wanted to be left alone. It's almost 10 years later and I'm still thinking through the entire situation (a bit on the late side) - some things just don't seem to have very easy solutions.....
A great story Patrick, You can dine out on that one for a while yet, I'll bet. But I can't think of a single fifteen year old who'd know who he is 'round these parts, the times they are a-changin... And what could you say to him anyway except "so long and thanks for all the songs". A great shot, Julian, looks like it's been cross-processed. I've never really though of Bob Dylan and yellow going together before. Regards, Gary
Bob. Bob. Bob. He sings the songs... have a read of this, Mark...
MY ENCOUNTER WITH BOB DYLAN
One morning in 1993 I opened the door of my flat and stepped out onto Camden High Street, North London, nursing a bastard of a hangover. The sun was blistering hot and I squinted as I walked down the street, cursing the fact that another day-night of revelry had led to the tragic state I was in. My self-pitying reverie was interupted by the sight of a man walking towards me who looked strangely familiar. He was dressed in a full length leather coat with a shock of curly hair poking out from under a stovepipe hat. My brain somehow managed to wake itself sufficiently to register that this was in fact Bob Dylan. Yes, Bob Dylan, mercurial genius of song...
I knew at once it would be pointless my trying to say anything to him. Not only was I unsure as to whether I could actually form coherent words, let alone sentences, in my present condition; I also thought it possible that Mr Dylan might not really need to hear yet another fawning acolyte tripping over his own tongue with superlatives about his music and poetry. So I decided to discreetly follow on behind him for a bit to see if anything revelatory should happen that would cast a definitive, revealing light upon the workings of his mind.
Dylan crossed the street and was passing a second-hand record store when a young kid of about fifteen ran out of the shop and physically bumped into him. The lad looked up, apologised, and then saw who it was he'd clattered. His mouth gaped open and he stared dumbstuck at the musical giant standing a foot away from him. He reached into a plastic bag and from it produced a vinyl copy of Dylan's 'Blonde On Blonde' album that he had just bought. He looked at the cover, looked up at Bob and before he could say anything was rescued from his own awkwardness by the voice of the man himself. "Wowww, isn't that weeeird!" he said, in his inimitable nasal twang. "You just bought my old record, and then you bump into me! You must be feeling pretty weeeird right now!" The kid nodded, still unable to speak. "I guess you'd like me to sign that for you?" Another nod. Dylan was handed a pen by one of his 'associates' (very big, silent) and signed 'Isn't that weird?! Bob Dylan' on the sleeve. The look on the young man's face was priceless. And with that, Dylan said goodbye and walked off down the road, no doubt storing that weeeird experience for use in a later masterwork.
As I was trying to get to grips with this surreal encounter, I was set upon by a middle-aged longhair who looked like Keith Richards on a bad face day... yes, that good. I had had the misfortune of meeting him before. This gent was totally convinced that Bob Dylan was an emissary of God and had the answers to life stored under his stovepipe hat. He was a complete loon. He asked me in a breathless croak: "He's here! He's here! Have you seen him? Which way did he go?!" I kindly pointed up the street and he ambled off to hunt his unfortunate prey. He wouldn't have found him, as I sent him in completely the wrong direction. Well, it was the least I could do for a legend like Bob.
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